Grumbler's note: It was during the 70s when Jack and I happened to own a
Triumph Bonnevilles. During this trip, mine was a black '72 T120R while his
was the '73 T140RV. One of our longest rides was up to Lassen NP.
      

First Day: My coworkers who are gathered around us had mixed expressions 
of envy and skepticism as we're warming up our Bonnys with our packs and 
sleeping bags tied down to our bikes behind us. 

Most of the guys I worked with have dirt/trail bikes for their Saturday 
afternoon "Weekend Warriors" rides in the hills of Santa Cruz Mountain. 
I used to ride with them, one or two winters ago, on my '59 Bonneville 
flat tracker with GP cams. I had to admit that we did have fun slinging 
"mud".

Our Bonnys were up and down for upgrades, maintenance and preparations   
during early spring... Now, August has come and almost gone. 

Sheesh! We've been trying to go on this run with our two weeks paid 
vacation that was promised to us since the beginning of summer. Business 
was thriving and we're swamped with extra work, our bosses wouldn't let us 
go till now.  If it wasn't for the weekends overnighter runs we would have 
gone "bananas". 

Destination: Lassen National Park, Reno, Carson City and Lake Tahoe.  Hmmm... 
I wouldn't mind trying my luck on the Blackjack or Poker tables in Nevada. 
Return trip: Spit in the palm for a day or two in the Sierras.  We had 
plenty of time to explore the CA/NV border.   

We both had installed "Kerker's Two into One" exhaust systems, did some 
serious rejetting in the carbs and ignition work last winter.  The bikes 
had increased in mid/top end performance but our Bonnies lost some bottom 
end torque.   

It was a fair trade off since I've added two teeth in my drive sprocket 
when the warranty ran out on my Bonny. Originally, I wanted to drop one 
tooth, from 20T to a 19T on the counter-shaft sprocket but then I would 
have to R&R my clutch pack and 5-speed tranny to change the sprocket.   
Another time. 

My drive chain had to have "half-links" due to the longer drive chain.   
Not so good.  "YA get what you pay for."  Right.  Hey!  Give me a break! 
I'm learning. 

With our navy watch-caps on and secured with our goggles.  We pulled our 
clutches in, clicked in first, eased the clutches out while twisting the 
throttles a hair, and headed out onto North Branciforte Dr. We had still 
practiced our freedom of choice of not wearing helmets. 

As our bikes straighten out, I gave a "Good-bye Wave" by popping a wheelie 
in second gear for about 100 feet or so.  It was easy to do with all the 
added weight packed behind me.   

Eventually I would master the "Wheelies" without the extra weight in back 
and stay up as long as I keep shifting up the gears during maximum 
torque/HP range.  But that's another story to tell. 

Soon, we're cruising north on #17 with the city limits disappearing behind 
us. It was widely known that, this stretch of highway was infested with the 
"State Boys" during the rush hours. 

Every "work week" there were always bumper to bumper traffic moving at a 
snail pace headed northbound to San Jose in the mornings then it would 
reverse in the evenings. 

During the tourist season it's worse.  The people from the "Over the Hill" 
would spill over the Santa Cruz/San Jose pass to spend their hard-earned 
money on the Boardwalk and to cop some rays on the pristine beaches. 

It wasn't difficult to pass cars quickly then slide back behind others as 
long as that there wasn't a "Smokey" in line of sight and at our back door. 
By mid morning the traffic thinned out.  None of this weaving in and out 
was needed anymore. 

The 2 into 1 mufflers had a gradual upswept angle towards the back of the 
bikes on the right side of our Bonny's.  That was a plus if one wanted to 
bank further than the stock duals without scraping the chrome or brackets 
off.  The left bank was free from any exhaust plumbing.  At times we would 
burn the ends of the footpeg rubbers off when we banked to the extremes.   
Every other month I would replace the footpeg rubbers with new ones. 

The center stand had to be removed to install the 2 into 1. We've already 
ditched them before.  They tend to slam up and down of the bottom of the 
frame as we're roller coasting the steep bumps and dips on the highways.  

Also, when the shocks were compressed it had improved our bankings on the 
curves.  Heck!  Every little bit helps. 

We were abreast of each other when we connected on I-680 then I-80 towards 
Sacramento.  That's when we noticed that our 2 into 1's had a medium to 
high pitched resonating exhaust sounds as we rode side by side. 

But, Ahh! I did missed the distinctive tones from the stock mufflers. 

While on I-80, our rear muffler brackets kept getting loose, either you or 
I had to pull over to tighten our securing nuts and bolts or readjust the 
brackets every other 20 miles or so.  It was very time-consuming and 
irritating.   

About an hour and half later we found ourselves at a "Truck/Cafe Stop" 
on I-80 just before Sacramento, had lunch, gassed up and did a visual 
check our bikes.   

I noticed that my securing nut and bolts of the muffler bracket(s) were 
gone.  The muffler was hanging on with just the rinky dink front brackets 
on the frame and at the exhaust headers clamps.  "Uffda!"  As my ancestors 
would have said. 

Riding bikes takes some mechanical application, a half way decent tool kit, 
hardware and "elbow grease".  One is expected to do repairs from time to 
time. Especially when one did "aftermarket custom" work or changes on the 
bikes. 

We've already wasted a couple of hours or so on the mufflers. Heck!  That's 
life...  We weren't in a hurry but we would rather be riding than twisting 
nuts and bolts.  Right! 

After scrounging around in my tool bag, found some spare hardware, twisted 
nuts and bolts, we were back on the freeway and took a freeway loop to 
bypass the Sacramento business center and found ourselves on US #99 then 
onto #70, Feather River Highway, towards Oroville. 

Gawd!  It felt so good to ride without stopping for repairs.  Our mufflers 
brackets seems to take hold as we clicked on the miles and climbing higher 
into the foothills. 

By sunset we arrived at Oroville...  We had planned to reach Lassen Natl. 
Park on our first day. But, No!  We had "fun" wasting time on twisting nuts 
and bolts today.   

We decided to make camp on a hill overlooking the "Oroville Dam Project".   
There were abandoned ranch houses, buildings, barns, etc, at the floor of 
the valley below us.  I thought to myself will they still be there when the 
dam fills up?  Hmmmm... 

We had to keep a low profile on the hill because it was privately owned. 
We were surrounded by occupied ranch houses at a distance of a half mile.   
Therefore, no camp fire to draw unwanted attention. 

I had my trusty old GI Korean War single gasoline camp stove to cook our 
supper...  You guessed it... Our usual, canned beans and hot-dogs, warm 
water from our canteens, and this time we topped it off with "Twinkies" 
for dessert. 

We're dogged tired and our asses were still buzzing from freeway flying 
all day.  The intense vibration from the Triumph's bench seats would seep 
through to our tail bones between 65-70 mph. We really couldn't 
reposition ourselves as we've had packs and sleeping bags behind us.   
Needless to say, after supper we crashed in our sleeping bags.  Sleep is 
good, almost as good as riding. 

Second day: Early morning, we checked the fluids in the bikes or we would 
have to take the packs and sleeping bags off later in the day's ride to 
check the engine oil level. One bad design of the bike if one had to carry 
a pack and sleeping bag.  Heck!  Triumph were designed as "Sport bikes." 

"Oh, hell!"  My muffler was hanging close to the ground again. This time 
the nuts and bolts rounded out the factory welded slotted bar that were 
welded on muffler. Therefore no way to secure the bracket to the muffler.   
Yours was loose but soon it'll end up like mine. 

I had used some old rusty wire that we found nearby or from our tool bags 
and temporarily wired my muffler up.  So we can ride to a hardware store 
and figure out what will remedy our problem. 

We spent most of the early morn installing/retrofitting plumber's tape to 
secure the mufflers on our bikes. Not as pretty as the chrome job.  BUT! 
"Chrome don't bring you home."  Right! 

I really don't remember if we had ate "brunch" or not by the time we 
finished our handiwork. But I'll tell you, we're outta there and flying up 
the Feather River Highway towards #89 trying to make up for lost time. 

We would stop briefly to check on our mufflers after a few miles. Then 
later on we would eyeballed each others mufflers as we ride side by side to 
make sure they weren't loose. It's a "GO!" 

Mucho miles later and just passed a 5,000 ft elevation marker, we stopped 
at a road side rest stop with facilities.  After tending to our "needs" we 
sat down at one of picnic tables near the cliffs and had a "smoke break."   
We're sight seeing the valley below southwest of us and the steep canyon 
walls to the east.  Breath taking view...  But the ride was much better! 

After we loosen up our joints and expanded our minds we roared up the #70, 
soon connecting to #89.  That's when I noticed that I'm losing power in 
fifth gear.  Down shift one...  Fourth gear is my main cruise as we 
ventured higher into the mountains. 

I had expected that due to the fat jets in my carbs.  They work fine at 
"Sea Level" but after 5,000+ ft then they'll be richer.  Your Bonny seems 
to take the "climb" a bit better than mine.  I had to downshift earlier or 
stay in gear longer to keep up with you. 

After riding through series of steep bends and curves for couple hours we 
saw snow on the road banks from the last winter snow plows and upon the 
north side of the slopes.  Heck!  It was getting a lot colder and we must 
be reaching crest soon.  Lassen Peak is tad over 10,000 ft if my memory 
serves me correct.   

We motored into the one of park camp grounds, found a camp site and quickly 
scrounged around for firewood.  Since it was a Tuesday most of the weekend 
campers were gone and we were able to find some "left behinds" of partial 
burnt logs, some kindling and "what nots" at other camp sites.  The Rangers 
don't think to kindly of us if we tried chopping down trees. 

We had a decent fire going.  We had enough firewood that'll last two or 
three more hours.  A dude rode into the park on a Honda CB350 with his 
pack strapped on his bike.  We invited him to share our campsite and fire.   
He was most grateful and wanted to share his grub in return.   

As we were eating our supper while sitting on our sleeping bags near the 
warm campfire "Honda" would talk our ears off about how he didn't need 
anything bigger than a 350 CC on this trip.   

A real jerk!  But we kept our mouths shut and let him rant and rave about 
the money that he'd saved by getting his "beloved" Honda. Then he compared 
our camp gear and said we wasted good money on them. By that time, I was 
seeing red and went into a "self preservation shut down mode." 

After hearing an ear full of his BS all evening I decided to turn in.  The 
camp fire was dying, we added the last of the wood...  I moved my sleeping 
bag as much as I dared toward the campfire and snuggled into my bag. 
"Honda" and you were still up but I can see that you were ready to crash as 
I was zipping my bag over my head... 

I woke up in the middle of the night, crawled out my ever so warm 
"5 LB Coleman" sleeping bag and went to an outhouse.  The dude was not in 
his sleeping bag when I returned.  I then hurried back to my bag. 
Dang it!  I was freezing as I slipped back into my Coleman bag. 
Soon, I was warm. 

Dude returned with some wood to put in the smoldering camp fire. He was 
fanning and blowing on the coals trying to restart the fire but he failed 
miserably and crawled back into his "money saving" sleeping bag.   

I can see that his bag shaking something fierce as I slowly zipped the top 
of my bag over my head. HEH, HEH. 

Third day: We broke camp real early.  Our Bonnys wouldn't kick over.  Oil 
was thicker than molasses.  After the several "switched off" cranks the oil 
in our crankcase loosen up. Honda was stirring in his sleeping bag but 
didn't say anything. 

We had to keep the bikes running way above idle almost racing just to keep 
them from stalling.  With all the noise we made and roared out of the 
campsite, the dude was still in his bag. 

We passed another elevation marker as we left the campground stating it was 
7,000 ft level and we're still climbing.  Right away, I noticed my bike had 
lost a lot power and black smoke was billowing out of our exhausts. 

I couldn't stay in fourth or I would go below my 3,000 RPM torque range.   
I'd downshifted to third then powered it up to 6500 rpm and shift back up 
to fourth again. Slowly I would lose rpm back to 3,000 in fourth again.  I 
would repeat this for several miles.  Must be the combination of fat jets 
and high elevation...  Wished I had brought my smaller jets along.  But 
then, I wouldn't need them cause we'll be going down soon. 

My left bank started missing and shortly afterwards I was running on one 
bank. We pulled over and checked the plugs and they were gas fouled to the 
max. After seeing mine, you pulled yours, they were black and sooty. We 
replaced them with one range hotter plugs which we just so happened to have 
in our tool bag.   

We're back on the road!  "Happy days are here again." 
(It's that same dang song again.) 

A few miles before we crested the pass, a Buck and a doe jumped in front of 
us on the highway.  We had plenty of time to slow down and let them decide 
which way to escape.  Skittish animals aren't they?  Especially when two 
noise makers like us barreling up the road towards them.       

We stopped at Old Station/Cafe on #89/#44 junction to have breakfast, 
hot coffee and warmed up from our freezing early morning ride over the 
pass. I couldn't believe it could get that cold in August. 

It was getting warmer as we descended down the eastern slopes.  The 
elevation was tapering off about 4,500 ft level as we're heading towards 
Susanville on #44. Seems that we're on a plateau.  The bikes were running 
top notched and with plenty of power to spare. 

After ten miles or so we pulled off to the side of the highway, drove onto 
a forest road a bit and had a "smoke break."  A lumber truck rumbled by and 
gave us a friendly "toot" as we waved back. We wondered if he knew? 
Heck!  We didn't care and we continued enjoying the scenery. 

We've must have taken our sweet time to get to Susanville cause we arrived 
just in time for lunch at Dairy Queen. (Hmmm... I wonder why?) We stuffed 
our faces and still looking for more to eat.  Must have been the "High".
HEH, HEH. 

Then we went out a Honda Dealership, checked out their show room floor, 
bought some NGK spark plugs, installed them in our bikes and put our hotter 
plugs back in our tool bags. 

As we would all say, we farted around some more and soaked up more of the 
country life. "Yeah, right!"  Enough of this... We looked over to our Bonnys 
and said... "Let's Ride!"   

We rumbled out of town but keeping an eye on the city speed limit.  No need 
to delay our departure by getting pulled over.  The "locals" were smiling 
as we're leaving... I couldn't tell if it's the hospitality or they're just 
glad to see us leave... HA! HA!   

On #395 heading towards Reno, the barren mountain range was on our right 
and there was a dry lake to our left that had spanned for miles along the 
highway.  Boring! 

To break the boredom we twisted our throttles, blasted by 70 mph, reached 
100 mph, held it for several seconds, eased back to 80 mph and held it 
there till we reached CA/NV border about an hour later.   

We slowed down to the posted speed limit as we crossed the line. A few 
clicks later NV State Trooper flashed us over.  What the f...! 

We killed our motors, swung our kick stands out and got off our bikes as 
the "Trooper" walked slowly towards us.  We go through the rituals of 
handing over our M/C licenses, registrations, call in for any outstanding 
warrants that we've might have, then hands back our licenses. 

He took his aviation sun glasses off, eyeballed from you to me and said, 
"No helmet, no ride." 
"Huh?" we replied. 
"State of Nevada has helmet laws." 
"But sir, all we planned is to go to Reno then head to Truckee, CA." 
"Not without helmets, best you turn back and 'do' have a safe ride." 

Hmmm... Change of plans...  We yanked out the road map as his cruiser 
pulled out, passed us slowly, drove a little ways and made a U-turn and 
parked on the other side of the highway, waiting for us to make a decision. 

Seeing this, we decided to get the hell out of here before he loses his 
"good manners."  We high tailed it while he followed us as far as the 
border. "Trooper" dropped back and made a U-turn and settled back to 
where he first spotted us. 

We ended up at Hallelujah Junction a few miles back.  Had some cold ones 
while we're remapping our route. After several corrections, we yelled, "We 
have a plan!" 

Our gas tanks topped off and we blasted out of the junction headed south on 
#49 to Randolph then connected to #89 to Truckee and Tahoe City. 

That route, mostly paved, had tight bends, some hair pins and we seemed to 
be right at "home" with the Bonnys between our legs.  There were more than 
plenty of S- curves, 50-60 miles worth. Took us better than an hour and a 
half to travel that route.  Of course we stopped for "breaks" from time to 
time. 

I should thank the "Nevada Finest" for redirecting our course or we would 
have never found this stretch... Hmmmm.... Fate? 

Our bods were weary and sore from all the day ride today. It felt so good 
to lie down on my bed in our motel room in Tahoe City.  A short nap was 
very inviting  and off to "La-La land." 

We cleaned up and went to dinner at a nearby restaurant. We actually had 
sat down at a table and ordered full dinner specials. 
  
Later, I inquired at the front desk about if there were any bus service to 
any of the casinos on the NV side of Lake Tahoe.  Seems that we've "missed 
the bus" but they could call a taxi for us... "Nah... I'll pass on that." 
I said. 

After discussing our options we decided to ride back our rooms and get a 
good night sleep for our last day ride... That's what this is all about... 
"It's the Ride not the Destination."  Right! 

Fourth day: My bones and muscles were like petrified wood when the morning 
sun was filtering through the drawn curtains. I slowly rose from the "Dead" 
then dragged myself to the curtains and took a peek outside to see if our 
bikes were intact... "Yep."   

I made a pit stop at the bathroom and went back to my bed.  A bit later, 
you got up and went to the door and opened and looked out and closed it. 
Then you made a bee line back to your bed.  Without question, we wanted to 
sleep more than to ride. 

We checked out around 11 AM and had a quick breakfast, of course junk food 
at 7-11.  Motored out of Tahoe City, got back on #80, passed Truckee and 
now headed west towards Sacramento. 

As we flew down the slopes, I could see the smog in the valley.  Hmmm... 
"Back to the cesspool." I said.  About 90 minutes later we made a pit stop 
about 10-15 miles east of "Sac."  Traffic was congested but clipping at 60+ 
MPH. 

Another hour of riding we left I-80, connected to I-680 headed for 
Fremont/San Jose. We're weaving in and out through the traffic jams during 
the rush hour, again. 

Tired, my eyes burning and wouldn't stop tearing from the merciless thick 
smog.  We made another pit stop in San Jose and headed for highway #17.  
 
We then broke free from the "wolf packs" as we motored by Los Gatos headed 
up the "Hill."  At last!  Escape from the "Big Cities" and headed for smog 
free city of Santa Cruz. 

We encountered a Jag as we approached Mt. Herman Rd and raced him to Scotts 
Valley.  Kind of gave us a charge when we arrived home. 

We felt good that we made fantastic time from Tahoe City to Santa Cruz. We 
rode about 260 miles worth that afternoon.  In spite of the rush hour 
traffic and "wolf packs" we still made it in less than 5 hours. 
Overall, we had rode 800+ miles in 4 days and 3 nights. 

Home sweet Home!  We took our packs and bags off the bikes and cleaned 
ourselves up.  We're starving and the night was still young...  You betcha! 
  
We rode our Bonnys to Denny's, probably ordered Chicken Fried Steak Dinners 
and discussed options for our next run...  We're picking up our weekly 
payola at work tomorrow and still have another week of vacation left. 
"Die Hards" aren't we?  HEH, HEH. 

JACK, 



HOME